a drink we call loneliness
It runs towards me, its tongue out, panting and breathing out like it just ran a marathon.
“This is Muppet, my best mate,”
I can’t help but crouch down as the dog sniffs everywhere and slots himself between my legs, “Hey,”
I lean back so he’s in front of me now and I can pat his head, “This is your owner, mate? I feel terrible for you,”
The dog licks my hands, trying to reach for my face, but I lean my head up. I’ve never been kissed by a dog, and I’d like to remain that way. Sam snorts behind me, “He likes you already, give him a hug.”
Bab Populer